Nix. (Den of Mercenaries Book 3) (22 page)

* * *

A
ll good things
came to an end …

It had taken Kit until now to realize how true those words were, but with Uilleam calling Luna in for a job, he finally decided to stop ignoring the work
he
needed to get done.

That didn't mean he was pleased.

He was a bit annoyed with his brother for calling her in, but he knew better than to complain. Uilleam would then make it his personal mission to ensure she was always on an assignment if only to annoy him.

Annoyed though he was, he couldn’t complain too much. It had been because of Uilleam that he had found a wife. Despite the time it consumed, it was this job that had ultimately brought her to him.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Bora Bora,” Aidra said with a sigh, looking through pictures of the tropical island on her tablet as they rode through the hills of Santa Monica, on their way to a private lounge that was nestled away from the city. “I hear the water is lovely there.”

“I’m sure Fang would gladly take you, should you ask.”

She glared at him, though her twitching told him it wasn’t serious. “If he ever got any off time. Amazing that you can just take off in the middle of the night, but we have to be available at a moment’s notice.”

Now, he smiled. “It pays to be the boss. But should you have a date in mind, let me know and I’ll make sure you’re free.”

Aidra laughed softly. “Married life is agreeing with you. I should have made you do this sooner.”

Driving up the twisting road toward the Spanish villa, Kit’s thoughts turned to Luna, as they often did.

Remembering the smile on her face, the way her eyes lit up when he’d shown her the ring, he didn’t think anything else had ever made him as happy.

Signaling before turning into the parking lot, Kit found a spot right in the thick of the other cars, ensuring that his wouldn’t stand out too much amongst the others.

“Caesar Rivera,” Aidra reminded him as they exited the and started across the lot, her demeanor shifting from playful to serious. “He wants your assistance with moving cargo—and by cargo, I mean girls.”

This she said hesitantly, peeking up at him from the corner of her eye.

Kit’s steps didn’t falter. “You should have told me this sooner.”

Had she, it would have saved them a trip.

From the moment Luna walked into his life, he had slowly—though at the time he hadn’t immediately recognized what he was doing—distanced himself from particular clients that were once on retainer, and potential clients that sought his aid when it came to trafficking women across borders.

He hadn’t cared before, who those women were or where they came from, but once she was there with him, he could only imagine that one or any of those girls was someone’s Luna.

He made not have been able to shut them all down, but he could avoid aligning himself with them.

“Some of his background has only just gotten to me—sorry.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Kit said.

She wasn’t to blame for this, but he would make sure that after this meeting, people of similar ilk wouldn’t come to him for aid in this matter.

A man with a bald head and a tattoo on his neck glanced at them as they passed, a single nod telling Kit they were permitted to enter.

Inside the smokey interior of the lounge, bottle girls in leotards and high heels served drinks with a smile and wink. It was a gentleman’s establishment, that was complete with a rich wooden interior, a wall full of aged wine, and a sitting area that allowed an unobstructed view of the girls that were slightly bent over at the bar, waiting for orders to be filled.

Close to his side, he felt Aidra brush his arm, a silent cue for him to look where her gaze directed, but he
had
looked up Caesar Rivera before they arrived—though only enough to find a picture.

He was seated closer to the rear of the room, his table on a raised platform that reminded Kit of a dais. He had a thick mustache, the hair nearly covering his entire upper lip, then extending down along the sides of his mouth.

Even when he smiled, the man still looked displeased.

Upon first glance, Kit could tell this was not an establishment that Caesar frequented, not when the lot of the room was clad in suits while he wore clothes that were clearly expensive, but not note worthy.

Wiping his hands, then his mouth, with a linen napkin that he plucked from his lap, Caesar tossed it on the table as he stood, his gaze landing on Kit almost immediately.

Kit could just see the flash of gold around the man’s throat, and that coupled with the gold rings on his fingers and a large watch, he could also see that Caesar was not a man he would ever do business with.

It went beyond his involvement with human trafficking—the man was entirely too blatant with his wealth. And over the years, Kit had learned that those that so happily showed the world how much they were worth, made the most mistakes.

This man didn’t understand subtle.

“We won’t be staying long,” Kit said to Aidra as he rested a hand on her back and guided her in that direction.

Before they could get within feet of the man, one of Caesar’s security—a man that looked like wide-eyed and trigger happy—stopped them.

“Weapons,” he said in what he thought was a menacing voice, his head held high as though he meant to look down at them.

“One well placed punch and I can break his trachea,” Aidra said in Welsh, with a hint of anticipation in her voice, her gaze locked on the idiot that probably thought she was helpless.

“Maybe after,” Kit returned with a smirk in the man’s direction, more than happy to hand over his gun.

It wasn’t as though he would need it—he’d faced worse odds once before.

Aidra huffed, but didn’t hand over her gun, but she didn’t stop there. Instead, she removed nearly every weapon that she had strapped to her body. And as the man’s eyes widened in surprise, a trace of fear flooding in, she smiled and moved around him.

“I apologize for my man there,” Caesar said once they were at his table, his attention on Aidra for the moment. “He is cautious.”

He took her hand in his, pressing whiskered lips against the back of it before he turned to Kit with a boisterous smile, as though the pair of them were old friends.

“Señor Phoenix—is that right? A pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard great things.”

Kit didn’t return the sentiment. “You’ve asked for a meeting, you have ten minutes.”

Some of Caesar’s good nature dimmed as a flash of his temper showed. Undoubtedly, he wasn’t used to being the one on the receiving end of such words.

“Please,” he said with a gesture of his hand to a pair of seats. “Let’s discuss business.”

Unbuttoning his jacket, Kit pulled out a chair for Aidra first, then himself, folding one leg across the other as he regarded the man across from him. “What exactly would you like to discuss?”

“I understand that if I wish to expand my business internationally, you are the man I need to speak to,” he started with a wave of his hand to get one of the waitress’ attention. “My associates speak very highly of you.”

As to be expected. Kit took his job as the Facilitator seriously.

Though he couldn’t say who Caesar’s associates were.

“What is it, exactly, that you need from me?”

“I have a shipment of girls coming in from the Ukraine—a gift from the Russians should I choose to enter into a deal with them.” Caesar rested thick elbows on the table, leaning forward slightly. “He assured me that should I find a proper route, this can be an ongoing arrangement.”

Depending on how the deal was negotiated, it could very well be profitable for them all, but there were only a few problems with this arrangement.

Kit needed to know, and agree to, whoever was involved in the deal, down to the person that drove the fucking trucks.

And there were just too many variables the didn’t equate for this to be worth it for him in the end.

“The first shipment won’t arrive for another six months,” Caesar went on when he didn’t respond, “but should that go well, the next would be here much faster.”

Kit didn’t bother placating the man with false smiles and promises he knew he wouldn’t keep. “As tempting as your offer is, I’ll pass.”

Caesar hadn’t expected that.

Kit could tell from the way the man’s joyful expression bled away. “You’ll reconsider then, once you hear the figures.”

“Apologies, but you couldn’t afford my services.”

All of Caesar’s grace fled as he pulled the thick cigar from behind his ear, fitting it between his lips and lighting it. After taking two deep pulls, the end briefly lighting up, he said, “You’ll reconsider.”

“I can assure you, I won’t. So, if this is all you needed …”

Kit got to his feet, offering his hand to Aidra. They couldn’t have been in the lounge more than a few minutes at most, but he was already ready to leave.

“I am a powerful enemy to have, señor Phoenix. You—”

“If you think you know me, you should know that I don’t respond well to idle threats.
I
suggest you stop while I’m in a forgiving mood.”

Reluctantly, and with great effort, Caesar closed his mouth, though there was hatred burning in his eyes. “I’ll see you again, Phoenix.”

Aidra collected their weapons, and by the time they were driving out of the lot, Kit was more annoyed than he had been before they got there.

“Filter through any that you haven’t. Anyone involved in those trades is automatically rejected, is that understood?”

“Yes.”

“And figure out who his associates are.”

“Right—
shit
!”

Aidra’s panicked exclamation had him looking in her direction sharply, but her attention was on the incoming messages on her phone.

“What is it?” Kit asked. Aidra was never one to panic easy.

“It’s your brother—he’s been shot.”

Kit snapped into action a moment later, first dialing Luna’s mobile phone, and when she didn’t answer, he punched in Fang’s number and called.

“Yo.”

“Stay on the line,” he snapped before looking at Aidra. “There were three separate protocols Uilleam implements should this happen—figure out which one it was.”

He and his brother had a lot of time to prepare for this considering it was a rarity that he was ever harmed despite the legion of enemies he had—his mercenaries never let them get close enough.

But should one of them have succeeded, there were only three numbers he would call, and each one had a different stash house that he could be found in.

“The warehouse on 57
^th
,” Aidra said once she finished on the phone.

“D’you hear that?” Kit demanded to Fang, already hearing him telling the others to gear up. “Find Luna and take her to the safe house, no matter what she says. Do not fail in this.”

“On it.”

Fang hung up without another word.

Kit tossed his phone in the cup holder and pressed his foot harder against the gas.

* * *

I
f Luna were ever inclined
to smoke, now would be a choice time.

It hadn’t been more than a minute between the biker driving off and an ambulance screeching to a stop near where Luna kneeled next to Uilleam.

From the second those back doors came open and a pair jumped out the back in scrubs, she followed their orders blindly, scrambling into the ambulance after Uilleam was loaded.

She watched helplessly as his clothes were cut out of the way, an IV placed into his arm, as well as a tube down his throat.

He’s gonna be fine.

He’s gonna be fine.

He’s gonna be fine.

She repeated the words over and over to herself as they barreled through the streets, so fast that she was surprised everything wasn’t knocking over in the process.

They drove for another twenty minutes before she heard a metal garage door being lifted and they came to a stop on the other side of it.

She quickly climbed out the back, her gaze seizing on the sectioned off space in the middle of the room. Thick plastic curtains stood around a hospital bed, along with machines that Luna didn’t know the name of—like a typical hospital room, but in the middle of a warehouse.

Skorpion had pulled up not too much later, on the phone with who she thought was Zachariah, but she couldn’t look away from Uilleam as they removed the rest of his clothes once they got him settled on the table.

Toward the end, Lawrence had begged for his life, just as so many others, but despite their blood having been all around her, she hadn’t been moved by the sight of it.

But as she felt the grit on her hands, remembering the slippery warmth of Uilleam’s blood spilling over her fingers, she was dangerously close to either freaking out, or bursting into tears.

“He’ll be fine,” Skorpion said joining her as he stuffed his phone in his pocket.

She wanted to believe that—she really did. “I counted at least three,” she said softly, watching as Uilleam’s chest was cracked open. “He’s—”

“Too fucking stubborn to die—trust me. He’d stay alive just to spite whoever did this.”